


5 times foggy met daredevil (and 1 time he didn't)

by AsperJasper



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M, Matt and Foggy didn't meet in law school au, foggy is a bisexual disaster and matt is also a bisexual disaster and together they're a mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25405900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsperJasper/pseuds/AsperJasper
Summary: The new arrival on the scene was definitely not a cop. In fact, Foggy had no idea who he was or what he was doing or how he’d taken out two men in ten seconds. Broken one of their arms, it looked like.Especially considering he had what looked like a shirt maybe tied around his eyes? Like a ninja. Or a pirate. A pirate ninja who’d swooped in and beaten up the muggers like it was no big deal.The corner of the pirate ninja’s mouth twitched, even though Foggy had no idea what he could possibly find funny at the moment.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Comments: 49
Kudos: 289





	1. Chapter 1

Maybe, Foggy thought idly, living in New York City had been a bad choice.

Maybe he should have taken his law degree and gotten a job at a nice firm somewhere suburban. Like Connecticut.

Maybe then he would be living the American dream. A spouse, a white picket fence, 2.4 children. A dog.

Not pressed face-first into a brick wall with a knife jabbing into his back, and barely even flustered for it.

God, what was the state of society or maybe his life that this was the situation he was in and his reaction was essentially, “this might as well happen?” For sure he’d be having a panic attack about this later tonight, but for now, he was vaguely annoyed, bothered by the pinprick of pain in his back, and trying to think of what cards were in his wallet so he’d know which ones to cancel later. He was pretty sure the American Express was in his wallet but the Discover was at home, but that might have been flipped, and he honestly had no idea if his debit card was in his wallet or if he’d left it in the drawer, and even if it wasn’t in the drawer with whatever credit card he didn’t have on him, that didn’t mean it was stolen.

Still, better safe than sorry, so if the debit card wasn’t in the drawer he’d cancel it and get a new one and if the world decided to give his old one back by way of him having left it somewhere stupid, so be it.

Maybe he could figure out how to order one of the fun colored ones this time, that might be cool.

“Check his back pocket. Guy dressed like this must have something on him.”

“You grossly overestimate how much lawyers fresh off the bar make, friends.”

“We already told you to shut up twice, keep your mouth shut.”

The knife pressure increased past annoyance and into pain. Like stepping on a lego but instead of his foot it was his lower back and instead of a lego it was a knife.

Maybe he was in shock? Maybe he was so scared his brain and body couldn’t keep up with each other? Maybe that was why he wasn’t totally freaking out about the fact that he was being mugged. Yeah. That must be it.

Maybe he’d have to go home and get drunk and then blame the hangover for how shitty he would feel tomorrow, instead of, you know, getting mugged and having a panic attack over it.

“Do you guys take bills for ruined clothes? Because I own two suits and need them both for work and-“

“Keep. Your mouth. Shut.” The one holding the knife pressed it into his back even further, and Foggy had to fight to keep from sighing when he felt the fabric give right before the pain jolted up a notch. Great. Now he really did have a ruined suit, and how was he supposed to pay for that?

Muggers these days. They couldn’t stick to the actual upper echelons of society, noooooo, they had to go after any dude in a nice (ish, nice-ish, it was cheap but at least it looked okay) suit and rip the back and steal his credit cards.

“You know I have like forty dollars in my bank account and my cards max at five hundred dollars, right? Like at most that’s not even half my rent-“

“If you don’t stop talking right now, I’ll put this knife someplace a lot less pleasant.”

“I’m a nervous talker, see, and this little situation-“

“Shut! Up!” The one without the knife had been going through every single pocket of Foggy’s bag, but he seemed to have finished. Foggy could hear him snapping it shut, how sweet of him to keep it from spilling when Foggy picked it back up. There wasn’t even anything in there except for a water bottle and some granola bars. He wasn’t exactly high enough on the totem pole to be handed like, client files or anything. “Stop talking or we’ll leave you bleeding out in this goddamn alley!”

“Aggressive.”

The knife poked even harder into his back, and Foggy wouldn’t have been surprised to find out if he was bleeding a little bit from it at this point.

And then there was a loud thud, a disgusting sounding crack, a strangled shout from the guy behind him, and the pressure disappeared.

“Are you all right?” An unfamiliar voice asked.

Foggy turned around to see one of his muggers on the ground cradling his arm, whimpering softly, and the other just knocked the fuck out.

“Uh….yeah? How bad does my suit look?”

The new arrival on the scene was definitely not a cop. In fact, Foggy had no idea who he was or what he was doing or how he’d taken out two men in ten seconds. Broken one of their arms, it looked like.

Especially considering he had what looked like a shirt maybe tied around his eyes? Like a ninja. Or a pirate. A pirate ninja who’d swooped in and beaten up the muggers like it was no big deal.

The corner of the pirate ninja’s mouth twitched, even though Foggy had no idea what he could possibly find funny at the moment.

“I didn’t see. You’re bleeding, though.”

“I am?”

“Just a little.”

He was…okay, so Foggy was definitely either having some kind of weird fever dream or he’d have to go home and get blackout drunk on this fine Wednesday night because his immediate thoughts about this man were not “wow he saved my life what a hero!” Or anything of that kind.

Instead, the gay lizard named Franklin who occupied at least one-sixteenth of his headspace had taken note of how well-fitting this dude’s weird ninja outfit was. He was ripped. Just truly shredded beyond belief. Like, he could probably bench Foggy without breaking a sweat, and his outfit of choice absolutely did not attempt to hide that fact one bit.

More stress-induced delirium? Maybe.

But Franklin the tiny gay lizard was chanting “tap that” over and over and over again.

The little straight lizard named Percy was telling Franklin to get a grip, and the result was the ever-so-bisexual Foggy spluttering something incomprehensible for a few seconds before managing to pull himself together.

“Who are you?”

“Just somebody who wants to help.”

“I mean, thanks for saving me, but you should really reconsider the outfit, it’s very threatening in a weird sexy vigilante way? I mean, not weird sexy in a weird way but in a like-“

“Nervous talker.”

Foggy blushed and snapped his mouth shut, and the masked man’s mouth quirked into a small smile.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. You just went through a stressful situation, it’s perfectly natural. Can you get home safe, or do you want an escort?”

“I’ll…be fine. I’ll be fine, I don’t live too far away.”

“Stay safe.”

Mr. Pirate Ninja’s mouth twitched one more time, which would have been much less noticeable if he didn’t have very red, very luscious lips.

 _Shut_ up _Franklin the gay lizard_!

And then he vaulted up the fire escape and flipped up onto the roof of the building next to them.

Foggy definitely did not take a moment to appreciate his ass in those pants, or the crazy amount of arm strength definitely present in anybody who could _move_ like that. Christ, the abs probably present on that guy…

Definitely not. No way. He definitely did not think about those things the entire walk back to his apartment. No siree, nope.

Mr. Sexy Vigilant Pirate Ninja would just have to go the rest of his life knowing that Foggy Nelson been swayed by his weird sexy vigilante thing after being saved from a mugging.


	2. Chapter 2

Pirate Ninja Masked Man Sexy Ass Vigilante (whose name got a little bit longer and a little more ridiculous every time Foggy thought about it) started showing up in the news not long after Foggy’s run-in with him.

It wasn’t that surprising, really. New York City had its fair share of superheroes running around. The Avengers, mainly. Spiderman, who might maybe be an avenger but also might not be. It seemed like every other month, some new guy with superpowers and a thirst for justice showed up somewhere in the city.

This guy was something new, though. For one, he didn’t really seem to have superpowers? He kept showing up, sometimes multiple times a night, and helping stop a mugging or a robbery or a trafficking ring or what have you, but there was no, you know, laser eyes or shapeshifting or super-speed or anything like that. He was just good at fighting.

Like really good.

Every new clip of him spinning and kicking and swinging up fire escapes went at least semi-viral in Hell’s Kitchen.

That was another thing, he didn’t ever seem to leave the bounds of Hell’s Kitchen. 

Hell’s Kitchen’s personal crime fighter.

A little bit sexy of him, if Foggy did say so himself.

Most papers were just calling him the Masked Man.

It was fitting, to be fair. The only skin the guy showed was his mouth, and while plenty of people might wander around New York in tight-fitting black sweatpants and shirts, not many of them also wore something tied around their faces.

How did he even see?

Anyway, he was getting to be a pretty popular figure, even if Foggy liked his name for the guy better.

And surely having a vigilante running around would make Hell’s Kitchen a safer place, right?

Surely, surely, after weeks of there being story after story of this masked man swooping in at exactly the right moment and saving somebody’s night. After so many stories of broken arms and noses, or people being found knocked out and zip-tied to a dumpster, surely people would stop committing so many crimes? Right out in the open, in alleys? Surely the criminal underbelly of Hell’s Kitchen had more brains that just continuing business as usual, right?

Wrong. Clearly.

Foggy should have known that. He was a defense lawyer, for crying out loud, he filled out paperwork about and sat in on meetings with the biggest idiots New York had to offer on the daily.

Still, he was somehow surprised to pass a mugging on his way home.

And not even a subtle one. Barely four feet back into an alley, one guy holding a gun with a shaking hand while watching a woman empty her purse in front of him.

“Now would be a great time to show up, masked man. An excellent time, in fact, before I do something stupid. Like try to help.” Foggy muttered under his breath.

A quick scan of the surrounding rooftops and fire escapes didn’t reveal any buff men in black swinging down to save the day, and so Foggy sighed and stepped closer to the alley.

“Hey! Buddy! You wanna pick on somebody your own size, maybe?”

This was so stupid, so ridiculously stupid, he had a gun, Foggy could literally see the gun, the guy turned the gun on Foggy and the woman behind him let out a choked noise and started edging towards the street. Foggy hoped his desire for her to escape was communicated on his face more than the abject terror of staring down a gun.

Did time slow down, or did nothing happen for a really long time?

The world would never know. Foggy would never know.

He would just stand there and stare at the gun, shaking slightly in the mugger’s hand, and thought of every last word he wanted to say but was scared to because based on his past experience with muggers they did not like nervous talkers.

“Oh please God, Jesus, please, please god,” Foggy squeezed his eyes shut, praying that whatever death by gunshot felt like it would be over quickly and with minimal pain and maybe that he wouldn’t shit his pants either before, during, or after it. A little bit of dignity, that would be nice.

Foggy Nelson died a hero, no shit stains in sight, that would be a perfectly lovely obituary.

“I didn’t realize people were calling me Jesus. Not sure I’m allowed to like that. I’m a little too Catholic for that.”

On the word “Catholic,” there was an impressively loud thud, and the gun that had started shaking ever more violently when the voice appeared went skidding off across the pavement. The guy holding it was pulled backwards into the shadows, and with another thump, he moaned and slid to the ground.

His shoes were the only part of him sticking into the light.

“You really need to stop getting yourself into these situations. Twice in a month is well above the average, you know.” The masked man came just to the edge of the light, just enough of his face showing (well, the lower half of his face, anyway) for Foggy to see those slightly ridiculous lips in their infuriating half-smile.

“I’m a defense lawyer, your holiness, I know the crime statistics of Hell’s Kitchen pretty well and considering I didn’t get mugged twice, I got mugged once and found a second, not that surprising. Also, you definitely do not get to talk considering we’ve all seen your ass flipping around purposefully getting into these situations.”

“Are you arguing that this wasn’t on purpose, councilor?”

“I’m arguing that me putting myself in danger once is in no way equivalent to what you do and that my risking my life for the sake of another person does not equate to being mugged for a second time, therefore you have no right to neither judge me nor condemn me.”

“Fair enough. Does the defense rest?”

“The defense rests in the case of Nelson v. Masked Man.”

The masked man laughed, sharp and short but genuine.

“Well, Mr. Nelson, given that convincing argument I’m going to sentence you to me following you home to ensure you don’t decide that I’m leading by example and try to stop another dangerous situation.”

“I should definitely be threatened by the prospect of being followed home by a mysterious masked man who enjoys beating people up.”

“Should you be? I seem to recall saving your life. Twice.”

Again with that frankly unfair smile. Stupid red lips. Disgusting, not attractive at all. Stupid black pajamas weird mouth shredded masked vigilante pirate ninja. Horrible.

“I never recall asking you to do that, actually. And I don’t think that automatically earns you my trust?”

“No?”

“Frankly, no.”

“Damn. I’ll have to try harder to win you over, Nelson.”

“To start, most people call me Foggy outside of court.”

“Foggy.”

He said it slowly. It was almost creepy, paired with that recurring half-smile, but instead, it almost made Foggy shiver and definitely did not help whatever weird thing he had going for this guy.

“Yeah. Foggy.”

“Well, Foggy Nelson, I will know if you do something stupid on your way home.”

“Do as you say, not as you do, got it. I have a feeling telling you the same won’t work?”

“Habits. Easy to form, hard to break. I don’t really recommend picking up the vigilante habit.”

He flashed another smile, this one with teeth, and Jesus H. Christ his teeth weren’t actually pointy but that was the first smile Foggy had ever seen in real life that could be described as wolfish. It was hot but in a slightly scary way.

Kind of like everything about the masked man, really.

“I’ll keep that in mind when I’m deciding my next unhealthy coping mechanism. Try to stick to ice cream, maybe.”

That earned him another sharp laugh, and then the masked man tilted his head to the side and took a step backward, farther into the shadows.

“You do that. Get home safe, Foggy. I’ll know if you don’t.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

He was already gone. Flipping his way up the fire escape, if the rattling sounds were anything to go by.

When Foggy got home, before he went inside the building, he looked up at the roof across the street. He couldn’t be sure, but it did look like a figure dressed in black was slipping away.


	3. Chapter 3

Part of working one’s way up in a law firm was grunt work. A lot of it.

Meaning, a lot of barely paid overtime going through files and taking notes and sending emails with somebody else’s name at the bottom and figuring out what the hell happened to the old transcript filing system so he could file the new transcripts which he needed to do so he could mark the case as finished and bill the last bit of time before sending off the (absurd) bill.

It was soulless, life-sucking work, but somebody had to do it.

According to his bosses, anyway.

Foggy was moderately sure that it could not get done and instead, he could put the transcripts in a big box and knock fifty dollars off the bill for time he didn’t spend frantically trying to find an entire missing filing cabinet (seriously what the fuck happened in the file room before Foggy got here???) But alas and alack. That was not to be.

So Foggy stayed late and eventually found the missing filing cabinet (?) in a broom closet (??) with all of the files labeled in what looked like purple crayon (???).

It was almost ten pm by the time he finally headed for home. If they thought he wasn’t collecting at least three of those five hours of overtime in the form of cold hard cash, they were wrong. Well, a check, but still. Maybe he was working to prove he was able to do better work, but he deserved overtime goddamn it.

And?

He was starving. He’d barely taken a dinner break, if eating an Uncrustables and a bottle of diet Pepsi even counted as dinner when he was twenty-seven goddamn years old.

On the other hand, there was absolutely nothing wrong with eating some delicious falafel from a food cart while walking home because he’d left his MetroCard at home and a taxi? In this economy? No thanks.

“Smells good.”

The voice almost made him jump out of his skin when it came from the alley to his left.

“Goddamn, fuck you.”

“Language.”

“Sorry, goddamn, what’s wrong with you?”

“Other language.”

“Holy shit, fuck you?”

“That works.”

The nice thing about New York?

Nobody on the street noticed when Foggy started talking to the shadows, and nobody paid any attention when he stepped into the alley to see the masked man for himself.

“I heard you got a new outfit and I was really hoping it looked less stupid in real life than it does in pictures.”

“Does it look stupid?”

It totally did look stupid. Red and black…leather? Body armor of some kind, looked tough. Formfitting, like the black outfit, and this mask did seem to have eyeholes, clearing up the issue of how he could see a little bit, but they were bright yellow. Oh, yeah, and the horns. Little red horns sticking up out of his forehead.

“You really embraced the whole…Devil of Hell’s Kitchen thing, huh?”

“I didn’t design it myself, you know.”

“Oh, you’ve got an armor guy? Wanna hook me up so I can stop some more muggings on my own?”

“Absolutely not,” he said completely seriously, frowning.

He’d gotten a new nickname. Daredevil. It kind of suited him, really. Matched his new suit, both in theme and in levels of stupidity. Better than Masked Man, anyway.

Still not better than Hot Dread Pirate Ninja Roberts Buff Sexy Nice Ass Vigilante, though. That was still the best name for him. The most descriptive, and best-fitting, even if it changed a little bit every time he thought it.

“No? You mean the idea of somebody running around in leather armor stopping muggings isn’t appealing to you? I never would have guessed that based on how you spend your evenings.”

“Kevlar, not leather, and just because I do it doesn’t mean I want anyone else to.”

“You, sir, are a hypocrite and a fool, and? You look like an asshole running around dressed up like satan.” Foggy shook his head.

“They call me Daredevil now.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve heard. And you sound very proud of yourself about that one.”

“It’s better than just being called the devil.”

“Oh, that’s right, you’re Catholic, aren’t you? I bet that little nickname hurt your delicate monk-like sensibilities.”

“How do you know I’m Catholic?” The lightness vanished from his voice in an instant, replaced with hard intensity as he leaned forward into Foggy’s space.

Definitely intimidating, holy shit.

“Uh…you told me? Last time? Jesus, dude, are you trying to give me a heart attack? I’m not a perp!” Foggy took a half step backward, trying to separate himself a little bit from the energy that was now rolling off of Daredevil in waves.

“I did?”

“Yeah? You made a terrible joke about me calling you Jesus and then said you were too Catholic to like it.”

“Oh.” He relaxed, leaning back away from Foggy. “I forgot about that.”

“Clearly. I’m not really trying to figure out who you are. Mostly because I’m pretty sure you’d kick my ass if I got anywhere. Also because that seems like a headache to deal with. Also, the only part of your body I can actually see is your mouth and that seems like not much to go off of. Maybe your martial arts stuff? If this were Criminal Minds they’d be searching through the member lists of every gym in Hell’s Kitchen.”

Daredevil’s mouth quirked again.

When he wasn’t trying to scare Foggy, he wasn’t very intimidating. Just a very buff guy in a ridiculous suit.

“I don’t use any gym they’d think to check.”

“What, there’s black market gyms now? Gyms where the only clientele is mysterious vigilantes? Do you trade armor guys there, too? Let everyone trade secrets so it’s all even playing ground?”

“If anything, I don’t want it to be even playing ground. My job is a lot easier when I have the advantage.”

“You’d rather beat up defenseless citizens while wearing impenetrable armor, got it.”

“It’s not impenetrable, just tougher than what I had before. Anyway, I don’t beat up defenseless citizens. I haven’t beaten you up yet, have I?”

“We both know that’s because you’ve been charmed by my endless wit and roguish good looks, not out of the goodness of your heart.”

“Have you done something illegal that I should know about, Foggy Nelson?”

“I pirated a movie last night instead of paying for it. Oh, and last week I made it all the way home before realizing I’d put a pack of gum in my pocket without paying for it, and I kept it anyway. I broke into my friend’s apartment a few months ago because he forgot to give me the key and I was supposed to feed his cat while he was upstate.”

“Hmm. Maybe I do have to beat you up. Just a little.”

“Please don’t. I’m a delicate little thing, getting punched by a man in a devil costume might just be too much to bear.”

“I supposed I can make an exception in your case if you promise to end your lawbreaking days.”

“Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye. It’s all uphill from here, Mr. Daredevil sir, no more illegal activity on my end. I’ll pay for every streaming service, triple check my pockets in every store. Let my friend’s cat die. Anything to avoid getting beat up by Daredevil.” Foggy clasped his hands together, mockingly begging.

“As long as you keep that promise, we won’t have a problem. Have a nice night, Foggy Nelson. Enjoy your falafel.”

“Wait, that’s it? You didn’t actually have something to say? You just scared the shit out of me and threatened me for the hell of it on this fine evening?”

“The universe keeps throwing us together. Putting us in the same place at the same time. Why shouldn’t I listen to the universe and say hello?”

“You should learn to say hello like a normal person.”

“Impossible.”

“I suppose it is a bit much to ask the guy who runs around in kink gear to do anything like a normal person, isn’t it?”

That earned him a sharp bark of laughter as Daredevil parkoured away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matt's just a little bit creepy and we all know he found Foggy on purpose because he doesn't know how to flirt like a normal person but it's okay because I love him.
> 
> Comments are much appreciated, thanks so much to everyone who's already left one!


	4. Chapter 4

Foggy found himself watching for Daredevil whenever he was out after dark.

He was hard to spot.

Well, maybe that wasn’t fair since he was one guy in all of Hell’s Kitchen who was very busy if the reports on what he was up to were accurate.

The world was better off without this arms ring, that drug kingpin, these sweatshops, those traffickers. At least once a week, it seemed like, Daredevil dropped out of nowhere and took out some of New York’s scum. He was master at being in the right place at the exact right time and putting a stop to things Foggy hadn’t even heard a whisper of until the people doing them were found zip-tied somewhere with black eyes and fractured arms.

Night by night, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen was cleaning up the streets. Violently, sure, but fight by fight Hell’s Kitchen was getting safer.

That didn’t mean that hearing an absurdly loud crash on his fire escape at two in the morning didn’t make him instantly afraid.

It was the kind of loud noise that was just far enough away from his bed and just loud enough that it woke him up instantly but when nothing else happened, he questioned whether or not he’d actually heard it or if it had just been a snatch of a dream that woke him up.

He lay in bed for about five minutes debating on whether or not he should get out of bed and see what was going on or just decide that it was, in fact, a dream and therefore there was no reason that he shouldn’t just go right back to sleep.

Eventually, though, he groaned and pulled himself out of bed to look out of the living room window and see what could have possibly made that amount of noise on his seventh story fire escape at two in the morning.

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.”

A nearly dead man in a devil costume, that was what could make that amount of noise on his seventh story fire escape at two in the morning.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell did you do to yourself?”

Daredevil didn’t answer.

Probably because he was definitely unconscious.

Jesus, how bad did somebody have to be hurt to be knocked out? Pretty bad, right? Didn’t being unconscious almost definitely mean head trauma? If not blood loss and Foggy couldn’t even be sure it wasn’t, because there was definitely blood.

“Jesus.” Foggy looked around like maybe somebody else would be standing somewhere to tell him what to do. Or do it for him. Unfortunately, because life didn’t work like that, there was nobody. Just him and the vigilante unconscious on his fire escape. “Okay. All right. Christ.”

The window was not designed for dragging unconscious people through. It was big, obviously, since it was an escape window, but it was designed for one person at a time to climb through. One fully awake, fully mobile person.

Daredevil didn’t wake up in the ten minutes of grunting and sweating it took Foggy to get him through the window and splayed out on the floor. He managed to avoid banging his head around anymore.

“Okay. Jesus, I have no idea what I’m doing here, man. None. Christ. I think…okay. Well. You’re bleeding from somewhere. You are unconscious. Your helmet looks fucked up. God, okay, I think…okay. I’m gonna take your suit off? I don’t know, Christ, I have no idea, I have bandaids and peroxide and towels…what if you need stitches? No hospitals, probably…okay. Okay. Undressed first, worry the details later. Maybe it’s just a cut, maybe a bandaid will be enough.” Foggy’s nervous talking was out of control, and when he reached out to try and figure out how the helmet came off, his hands were shaking.

Would Daredevil even want Foggy to take his suit off?

He was hurt. Obviously. He needed help. Surely he had somebody to call when he got hurt, surely this wasn’t the first time? But he was out cold, and couldn’t do that or tell Foggy how to do that, and Foggy really, really didn’t want to deal with the logistical nightmare that would arise from having a vigilante die on his living room floor.

So whether he wanted it or not, Foggy was going to get his stupid suit off of him and see what he could do to help.

The suit was complicated. It fit together so well that it almost looked like one piece until Foggy got a fingernail under a seam and the helmet peeled off, and then he could find the tiny zipper that loosened the back of the suit so it could come off.

Daredevil was really out. He didn’t wake up when Foggy rolled him back and forth trying to pull the suit off.

He wasn’t wearing anything other than boxer briefs under the suit.

The blood was coming from a cut on his side. There was an impressive lump and bruise on his head, and various cuts, scratches and scars all over his body, but the cut on his side was what was bleeding and what looked the worst.

Foggy thought about every medical drama he’d ever seen, every triage scene in any movie he could think of.

A bowl of water. A towel. Rubbing alcohol, he probably had some of that in his bathroom. Bandaids. A clean dish towel, and did he have gauze to make a bandage? Maybe not, but he could look.

It took five minutes to gather supplies and dump them next to the unconscious man on his floor, and another three to clean the cut on his side and get gauze pressed into it and held in place with medical tape he didn’t remember buying but was glad to have found.

He was dabbing at another cut that was definitely fresh but had stopped bleeding on its own when Daredevil started to move.

“Foggy Nelson?”

“Uh…that’s me?”

“Am I…I’m naked.”

“Almost. I couldn’t…you were bleeding. On my fire escape. I…if you died I could be arrested maybe?”

“You…my mask.”

Foggy hadn’t even thought of that beyond a passing thought as he tried to get it off. Secret identities, faces hidden behind masks, not letting anybody in, the vigilante staples.

“Uh…sorry. I really didn’t want you to die on my living room floor if the motivation makes it any better. And…I don’t recognize you? Like…underwear model? Really nice bone structure, unless that lump on your head is permanent and not from whatever the hell happened to you tonight in which case I’m sorry about that. Like…you’re hot? But I have no idea who you are.”

Why? Why did Foggy’s nervous talk have to come across like weird flirting? Not even good flirting, just really, truly horrible flirting, awkward, slightly creepy flirting.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“I wouldn’t even if I knew your name, Daredevil. Now sit still and let me finish making sure you don’t die, even if it’s only for my own peace of mind.”

“Are you sure you aren’t saying that for a chance to feel up my abs?”

“If I weren’t already worried enough about the high chance you have a traumatic head injury I would slap you for that.” Foggy poured more rubbing alcohol on his now disgusting looking dish towel and started dabbing at the small cut in the middle of the lump on Daredevil’s head.

He winced away from Foggy’s touch.

“Ouch.”

“I think that’s, how you say, what you get. For crash landing on my fire escape and rousing me from my peaceful slumber to care for you.”

“I didn’t ask you to-“

“What was I supposed to do, let you bleed out on my fire escape? No thanks, dude, I’d rather clean you up.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“Yeah, you better thank me.”

He had pretty eyes when they weren’t covered by yellow cutouts in a devil mask. He seemed to be looking at a spot right over Foggy’s head, though, instead of his face. And when Foggy moved in to dab at the cut again, his eyes didn’t follow Foggy’s hand. And when Foggy waved a hand in front of his face, he didn’t blink or respond.

“Holy shit. Okay, um…okay, so whatever happened to your head-“

“Foggy.”

“I don’t know how you didn’t notice, but something with your eyes-“

“Foggy.”

“I guess probably you can still see, since-“

“No, Foggy, just-“

“I don’t know what to do about that, I have no idea-“

“Foggy! I’ve been blind since I was nine, it has nothing to do with a head injury!”

Foggy sat back dumbly.

“Oh.”

Daredevil sighed.

“How…how does that work?” Foggy asked carefully. “I…well, I’ve seen you fight.”

“My other senses, they’re…I can use them instead of seeing. It’s better, even. Three sixty perception.”

“So…you’re a superhero?”

“No. What? I’m still just a vigilante.”

“With superpowers. Which makes you a superhero.”

Daredevil sighed again.

“No.”

“Yes,” Foggy said resolutely, and he went to clean the cut again.

“You really don’t have to-“

“I am going to patch you up to the best of my ability so I can sleep soundly at night knowing I didn’t let you die.”

“I’m not dying.”

“Shut up and let me help.”

It took fifteen minutes for Foggy to finish cleaning the various small cuts scattered across Daredevil’s torso. To his credit, he sat there silently and let Foggy finish before picking up his suit and starting to pull it back on.

“Can you get home safe, or do you need an escort?” Foggy asked when he was poised to climb back out the window.

“I still have work to do.”

“Okay, I’m not a doctor and I don’t know if fast healing is part of your powers or whatever, but you got hit hard enough in the head to be unconscious for at least ten minutes, and that, friend, is dangerous. Go home and sleep. Actually, don’t sleep, you probably have a concussion. Go home and stare at a wall for a while.”

“I’m lucid and able to hold a conversation, I’m fine to sleep. If I were going home right away, that is.”

“I will follow you and make sure you go home.”

“You couldn’t keep up with me if you tried.”

A half-smile and he was gone out the window, moving like he didn’t have a bandaged cut on his side and a lump on his head.

Foggy couldn’t prove anything, obviously, but when he checked the paper the next day it didn’t seem like Daredevil had done much in the early hours of the morning.


	5. Chapter 5

Knowing Daredevil’s secret identity made it a lot harder to enjoy every clip of him that made his way across the internet.

The thing was, Foggy realized, that before he’d known what the face under the mask looked like, it was easy to pretend there wasn’t one. It was easy to watch this guy kicking the shit out of people and bouncing back after every punch and every attempted stabbing and every roundhouse kick to the face and only take away the fact that he was still up and running and not think about how bad those hits must have hurt.

Now that Foggy had seen that (beautiful, hot, definitely not helping the not-attracted-to-pirate-ninja-devil-vigilante case) face, and seen the cuts and scrapes and scars covering that body, the things the suit and mask hid, every time a clip of Daredevil getting hit popped up, Foggy couldn’t help but wince.

He wasn’t a figurehead. He wasn’t invincible. Daredevil was a human man underneath that suit, and Foggy simply could not get pleasure out of watching him fight now that he knew that.

Well…he couldn’t take as _much_ pleasure from it, anyway. It was still satisfying and just a little bit hot to see him winning a fight. Like when he did some wild kickflip move that resulted in him kicking one guy’s feet out from under him and punching another across the face?

That was hot. Full stop, no other way to put it, that was hot.

Daredevil was hot in his weird sexy vigilante way, and also in his face of a greek god way, and so Foggy did not like seeing him get hit but seeing him hit bad guys was still hot.

A compromise. Of sorts.

There was just something about a ridiculously buff man running around in a silly costume beating up bad guys that should have been absolutely ridiculous but instead was really, really hot, and really did it for Foggy.

Especially now that he knew exactly what those abs looked like.

The little gay lizard named Franklin had to add that bit in whenever he was thinking about Daredevil. Those too-good-to-be-true abs…he was unfairly attractive.

Why couldn’t Hell Kitchen’s resident vigilante be a gross guy who Foggy wasn’t attracted to at all?

It almost (not quite but almost) wasn’t a surprise to come home to a shadowy figure sitting on his couch.

“You know breaking and entering is illegal, right?”

“I figured you wouldn’t report me. Since, you know, my blood is already on your floor and you like me enough to take care of me, and you haven’t tried to describe me to the police yet.”

“Excuse me, 911? Yeah, the devil is in my apartment and he looks like a Calvin Klein model, come get him.”

Daredevil tilted his head back and laughed. It was a clearer and sweeter laugh than anything Foggy had heard from him before.

“Is there a reason you let yourself into my apartment and waited in the dark for me to get home?”

“To be fair, I had no idea it was dark in here until you said that. Since I’m, you know, blind.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

“I wanted to thank you. For helping me.”

“I would have accepted a note. Flowers. A Starbucks gift card, maybe.”

“I wanted to thank you in person. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t decided to drag into your apartment and strip me down to care for my wounds.”

“Not my fault you’re one step away from going commando under that thing.” Foggy dropped his bag on the floor and let the door close behind him.

“I would never go commando under the suit. Can you even imagine the chafing?”

“I can’t, nor do I want to, frankly.”

“It’s quiet tonight. Not much for me to do.”

“Oh?”

“Right now, no crimes that need to be stopped are being committed in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“You know, that implies that there are crimes that don’t need to be stopped being committed in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Four robberies of places that can afford it being committed by people who are good but desperate. Other than that…quiet. Some kids smoking pot, but I don’t worry about that kind of thing.”

“So you aren’t against all crime.”

“I’m against innocent people hurting. That includes starving because they can’t afford food.”

“Interesting. Well, if you aren’t planning on heading out and galavanting nobly around Manhattan, can I offer you a drink?”

“I don’t drink on the job. Who knows what might happen later tonight.”

“A coke, then?”

“I didn’t know you did hard drugs, Mr. Nelson. I may have to end our friendship over that.”

“I find it much more palatable when it’s dissolved in coca-cola if you’d like to try that.”

Daredevil laughed again, but he accepted the can of soda Foggy handed to him.

“Why does a lawyer get home so late every night, anyway?”

“I’m the new kid in town. I do all the boring, time-intensive work that nobody richer than me is willing to work for.”

“Ah. The grunt work.”

“Exactly. You know, I already know what your face looks like. You can take off the silly mask.”

“You think it’s silly?” He sounded genuinely self-conscious, and Foggy had to suppress a laugh.

“Just a tad. Maybe I’m just not Catholic enough to find it scary when the lights are on. In a dark alley it’s very effective.”

“Well, that’s where it needs to be effective, isn’t it?”

“I suppose.”

Still, Daredevil reached behind himself to unlatch the helmet from the rest of the suit and pull it off.

He had quite the case of hat hair underneath it, and for some reason, Foggy had to work quite hard to keep himself from reaching out to fix it.

He was just so much more human without the mask on, even with the rest of the suit. When he smiled at Foggy, that half-smile he’d seen under the mask so many times, Foggy could see the deep smile lines that carved their way across his face. He wasn’t a figurehead once the mask was removed, he was just a guy in a ridiculous suit with a really nice smile. A very pretty face. A light, cheerful laugh.

It was bizarre how un-weird it was to have a conversation with him on the couch. Almost like two normal dudes hanging out after work, instead of one normal dude and one guy who’d broken into the apartment of the normal dude and was still partially dressed like the devil while sipping a coke.

“How did a blind guy with superpowers end up dressed as the devil and beating up bad guys in New York City?”

“That’s a lot of questions in one, Mr. Nelson.”

“Please, call my Foggy, Mr. Nelson was my father.”

Daredevil laughed again, the sweet, open laugh Foggy was hearing for the first time tonight.

“I was born and raised in New York City, to answer that part of the question. I’ll never leave if I have any say in the matter. As for the rest of it…what was I supposed to do, not help people when I can hear them in pain from six blocks away?”

“Damn. I was hoping you’d been in it for the glory like an asshole, so I could hate you. That doesn’t explain the getup, though.”

“I’m Catholic. Isn’t that justification enough?”

“I dunno, I feel like it’s kind of the opposite. Like, wouldn’t you not want to be seen as the devil since you’re Catholic?”

“The devil serves as a reminder to do good for the people who are motivated by their own interests. Behave, or the devil will get you.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And they called me the devil of Hell’s Kitchen long before I had the suit.”

“So you embraced it. Made yourself a boogeyman.”

“It works, doesn’t it?”

“I guess it does.”

Daredevil’s face was turned towards Foggy, but his eyes were softly unfocused, aimed somewhere around Foggy’s left shoulder.

“Sometimes people run as soon as they see me. No fighting required.”

“I believe that. You have a reputation.”

“You don’t, though. Run.”

“I know how much of a dork you are under the suit.”

“I don’t know how you could possibly know that,” Daredevil said mildly. “Considering we’ve met four times and you’ve seen my face twice.”

“This would be the fifth, actually, and the second time we met you announced your presence with a terrible joke about being Catholic while punching a man in the head. And it’s just your vibe. I can just tell that underneath that scary vigilante exterior you work so hard for there is a sensitive nerd begging to be let out.”

“Maybe in my day to day life I’m also an asshole who dresses up and fights people.”

“I haven’t heard anything about that.”

“Ha. I guess you don’t know much about me then.” Daredevil gave Foggy a self-satisfied little smirk.

Foggy definitely (didn’t? Nah. Did.) want to kiss it away.

“That’s the thing about secret identities, Daredevil. They’re secret.”

“You know mine.”

“I know your face, idiot, not your name or day job or marital status or-“

“Oh, I’m an idiot now?”

“What other kind of person dresses up like the devil and punches people every night?” Foggy reached out to hit Daredevil’s shoulder, only to be blocked before he got anywhere close by Daredevil grabbing his wrist.

“I told you, you couldn’t keep up with me if you tried. Couldn’t beat me if you tried, either.”

“Who said I was trying?”

“You did just try to hit me.”

“I was going to poke you. In a friendly way. I’ve seen you fight; I definitely don’t want to try my luck.”

“I don’t want to fight you.”

“No? So don’t.”

“I don’t think I will.” Daredevil squeezed his wrist and let go. He flashed a smile, brighter than his half-smile and less intimidating than the wolfish grin Foggy had seen before.

A real smile looked good on him.

Daredevil suddenly tilted his head like he was listening to something.

“I have to go.”

“Trouble?”

“About to be.”

Daredevil pulled his mask back on and moved to the window, ready to jump out of it.

“Hey!” Foggy said, right before he made it out the window.

“What?”

“Next time just ask me out instead of waiting on my couch. It’s a lot less creepy that way.”

“Oh. Uh. Okay.”

And with that, he was gone.

Flipping his way across the fire escape, off to save the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matt has no idea how to behave like a normal person. Like even less that canon because in this au he didn't have Foggy to balance him out.
> 
> One more chapter to go!


	6. Chapter 6

Court days, typically, were either very exciting or very boring.

The exciting variety came filled with exciting debates, exciting points made, exciting deliberations, exciting verdicts.

The boring variety came with sitting around, sitting around, sitting around, and boring sitting around.

There was a third option, extremely boring, which consisted of Foggy being told he had to be there and then whoever he was supposed to be helping deciding they didn’t want him there after all but making him wait outside the courtroom in case they changed their mind back.

This was an instance of option c: mind numbingly, terribly, awfully, no good terrible bad day levels of boring. Sitting on a bench and watching dry paint get drier boring.

He fell asleep against the wall hour two, and would have probably stayed asleep until the courtroom doors opened if a soft tap-tap-tap hadn’t managed to break through to him first.

He probably looked like a grumpy old man when he cracked his eyes open to see what the quiet but persistent noise was.

It was a man walking towards him. Dark, red tinted glasses. A white tipped cane tap-tapping the floor in front of him while he walked.

A very familiar half-smile on his lips.

“Oh, pardon me,” Daredevil said when his cane hit Foggy’s foot. His smile got almost imperceptibly wider, and Foggy knew he’d totally done it on purpose.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.”

“I didn’t know there was anybody on the bench, see.”

“Of course.”

“And I was going to sit here for minute because my trial just ended.”

“Your trial? What did you get arrested for, pray tell?”

“Oh, I’m not on trial, couldn’t you tell? I dress up every day and fight people for a living, you know, like every lawyer does.”

Foggy laughed.

Of course the asshole who dressed up like the devil by night was a lawyer by day. Of course he was. What else could he possibly be?

“I’m Matt Murdock,” he said, offering a hand.

“Foggy Nelson.” Foggy took his hand and shook it, and then Daredevil (no, Matt Murdock) sat down next to him on the bench.

“Foggy is an interesting name.”

“My brother says I snore like a foghorn.”

“Ah. Matt is short for Matthew.”

“Really? I never would have guessed. What a strange nickname!”

“I’ve never understood it, really. Foggy makes a lot of sense, short for…”

“Franklin, but if you call me that I might have to call my good friend Daredevil to come beat you up. Have you heard of him? He’s a real tough guy, and I think he’d do it if I asked.”

“For just calling you by your full name instead of your nickname? He must be an asshole.”

“Nah. He just likes me a whole lot.”

“Oh, and you know that for sure?”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah. I can see it in his eyes, when he takes the dumb mask off.”

“You know, I’ve never seen the suit, but I hear it’s pretty bad.”

“Oh, you know, he’s a Catholic asshole who likes religious metaphors. It’s his whole schtick. I think it works for him, even if it’s a little much.”

“I’m sure he’d be so glad to have your approval. The attraction of one man out the fifty thousand residents of Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Who said anything about attraction?”

Foggy was very pleased to see Matt Murdock blush at that, and reach up to scratch the back of his neck like he was embarrassed.

“Oh. I, uh.”

“I mean, I’m not going to deny that the formfitting outfits don’t do something for me, and vigilante justice? I shouldn’t be saying this in a courthouse but there’s something infinitely satisfying with seeing somebody the law won’t touch just getting decked. But honestly? I like his face better when it isn’t covered up with devil horns.”

“Oh?” Matt gave him a tiny smile. Gave him, because it was obviously hopeful and meant for Foggy and Foggy alone.

“Yeah. He’s got a very nice smile, see, but you can’t see the cute little smile lines under the mask.”

“I see.”

“You do? Wow, I’m pretty sure it’s illegal for you to walk around with that cane, then.”

Matt laughed, the same open, sweet laugh from Foggy’s apartment.

Foggy instantly decided to make hearing that laugh a constant point on his everyday to-do list.

What gave the man who was so capable of being utterly terrifying the right to be so cute?

“Okay, so I can’t see shit, but I understand.”

“Oh, so you’re a smart guy, huh?”

“I am a lawyer.”

“So am I, buddy, and I know better than anyone that there are more braindead lawyers in the world than anyone should be comfortable with.”

Matt laughed again.

“I might not be able to measure up to this Daredevil guy you know so well, but if you ever feel like lowering your standards, I could take you out for coffee.”

“You move fast, Matt Murdock.”

“I know what I want,” Matt said simply, and Foggy shivered at the quiet intensity in his voice.

Would sex with him be full of the intense focus of Daredevil on duty, or would it be soft and sweet like Matt Murdock’s laugh?

“I could get over Daredevil for you, I think. On one condition.”

“And what would that be?”

“I think I’ve been spoiled for all eternity by the abs on that man. They’re, like, ridiculous. He’s shredded. You have got to be at least half as buff or it’s a non-starter.”

“I can make that promise. I go to the gym. A special gym, in fact, a very private one.”

“I’ve heard the black market gyms of Hell’s Kitchen are something special.”

“Oh, they are. Coffee?” Matt stood up and offered Foggy his hand.

Foggy looked at the courtroom door.

On one hand, there was a chance that it would open and he’d be called inside to organize something or give advice or just sit and watch so they could say they were giving him the experience that supposedly made up for the (small) size of his paycheck. They definitely wouldn’t be all that pleased to find him missing if that happened.

On the other hand, he’d been sitting here for two and a half hours, and the chance of option A happening were looking pretty slim, and he’d just been asked out by a (very attractive) dude who he wanted to go out with, and once again the gay lizard named Franklin who occupied at least one sixteenth of his headspace was taking over and telling him in no uncertain terms to take Matt Murdock’s hand and follow him to wherever they were going for coffee and then either follow or take him home and find out what those abs felt like when he wasn’t preoccupied with trying to clean bloody cuts.

As often happened when a man as pretty as Matt Murdock was involved, the gay lizard named Franklin won after a fairly short battle with calm, logical, rational thought, and Foggy took Matt’s hand and stood up.

“I would ask you to lead the way but I feel like that might be a problem.”

“I could lead the way if I wanted to.”

“The blind leading the ignorant.”

“That’s just the way the world feels all the time, Foggy Nelson, you have no idea.”

Matt did lead the way, albeit subtly, taking Foggy’s elbow like Foggy was his guide and gentle pulling him towards wherever they were going.

It was a small coffee shop, the kind that tourists would avoid and locals would flock to because it wasn’t particularly cute and the drinks weren’t particularly fancy, but it was cheap and smelled good and was set back from the hustle as much as any cafe in Manhattan could be.

The barista greeted Matt by name and gave Foggy a look.

Not that much of a surprise when Matt was all…Matt. His fluffy hair and beautiful smile and ridiculous (even under a suit, like that was any fair) body. Obviously anybody with taste who saw him on a regular basis would want him.

Matt didn’t seem to notice.

He ordered two coffees and led them to a table and sat down across from Foggy, smiling.

“Did I get your order right?”

“Weirdly, yes.”

“I can smell it from this morning.”

“And there, just when I thought you were actually proving me wrong and capable of being normal, you have to go and say that.”

Matt tipped his head back and laughed.

“I have no reason to act normal around somebody who already knows my deepest, darkest secrets.”

“I know precisely one of your secrets, Matt Murdock.”

“I don’t have any more. That’s it. Just one really big one.”

“I bet you have more. I’ll just have to drag them out of you.”

Matt laughed again.

What did it say about Foggy that he was about thirty seconds away from declaring undying love for the man whose real name he’d known for a half hour? Probably that he was confusing attraction for love and that he needed to take a step back and think rationally for a second before he said something stupid and totally embarrassed himself.

But why would he do that when he could spend two hours talking to a very interesting and very attractive man in a coffee shop, drinking way too much coffee and being way too “awkward blushing schoolboy crush.”

Matt didn’t seem to mind. When he finally stood up and stretched (and his shirt rode up and gave Foggy some very distracting thought about abs and shirts and scars), he smiled and offered his arm.

“Are you planning on offering to walk me home? It’s a dangerous world for a blind man out there. Lots of uncovered manholes, I’m told.”

“I don’t know where you live.”

“West twenty-seventh and Park.”

Matt’s hand on Foggy’s elbow was warm, and he laughed while Foggy told him blatant lies about what was going on around them.

(“No, I swear, he’s totally naked and juggling machetes. And they’re on fire, did I mention the fire?”)

Foggy paused outside Matt’s building, and Matt smiled at him.

“Was that a more normal attempt at a thank you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Matt cocked an eyebrow and Foggy couldn’t help but laugh at the expression.

“I’m trying very hard to be more normal, here, you have to give me some credit.”

“You’ve almost been successful. Almost.”

“Not quite?” Matt brushed a hand across Foggy’s cheek.

He was close. Very close. So close Foggy’s brain was having trouble focusing on anything other than his lips and how he could feel the warmth of Matt’s body heat.

“Not quite,” he managed to say, and Matt’s lips quirked into that stupid, stupid, annoying half-smile.

His glasses didn’t hide the smile lines as completely as the mask did.

He felt his heart rate spike when Matt’s thumb brushed his lips, and Matt’s smile got wider. A three-quarters smile, maybe.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” Matt said very quietly.

“And there’s the weird, Matt Murdock, the very weird.”

Matt kissed him, then. Foggy had a feeling it sounded like he was having a thundering heart attack from the way it felt.

Matt was still smiling when he stopped kissing Foggy.

Foggy felt like he looked like a dead fish and was glad Matt couldn’t see the expression on his face.

“I hope that’s a good thing. Not a…you hated that thing.”

“I most definitely did not hate that, Matt Murdock. Do it again.”

“Okay.”

And Matt did.

And Foggy let himself be pulled upstairs to Matt’s (absurd, ridiculous, how the hell did he afford this even with the stupid billboard?) apartment, and Matt kissed him again and said something weird and slightly creepy about what Foggy ate for lunch and then Foggy kissed him and said something weird and slightly creepy about Matt’s abs and Matt laughed and Foggy laughed and the bright lights of the billboard didn’t keep Foggy from falling asleep when they finally ended up in bed with the purpose of sleeping a pretty long while after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap, folks! Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> hey listen.....turns out i can't stop thinking about Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson and also writing Foggy's pov is a lot of fun so now i guess everyone has to deal with me
> 
> anyway I'm Asper! This is my second daredevil fic and unlike every wip I've ever written this is already completely written but I'm gonna post it chapter by chapter to delay the gratification I get from it! 
> 
> Please leave a comment, or come talk to me on Tumblr @loving-jack-kelly, and tell me what you think! I like feedback, it makes writing more fun!


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